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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843209">Disciplinary Action</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper'>spacehopper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Caning, Consent Issues, Desk Sex, Discipline, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Impact Play, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Masochism, Power Imbalance, Season 1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:48:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin's looking for an opportunity to prove himself. Jon gives him the chance to show he can be exactly what Jon wants.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Smut 4 Smut 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Disciplinary Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/gifts">anysin</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin knows he shouldn’t be in Jon’s office. Late as it is, he shouldn’t be in the Institute at all. Jon’s made it abundantly clear how he feels about Martin working late, how little value he sees in it. How little he trusts Martin.</p>
<p>But if Martin doesn’t work late, he’ll never be able to prove Jon wrong. To show him that he can help, that even if he isn’t who Jon would’ve chosen, he can be just as valuable as Tim and Sasha. And he learned long ago that sometimes, you have to cheat to get ahead.</p>
<p>Knowing it’s necessary doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel a twinge of guilt, however, when he turns on the light in Jon’s office. The room is quiet, with an organization that might be generously described as haphazard, but which he’s heard Tim call a paperwork fallout zone. Martin argued at the time, retorting that Jon was busy, that he was doing important work. All Tim did was roll his eyes. </p>
<p>And privately, Martin can’t quite disagree with him. He knows there’s no rhyme or reason to the statements lining the shelves, even as Jon frets and pushes them into getting the Archives into some sort of logical order. But there’s something different this time, a disruption to the familiar mess. One that makes Martin hesitate as he approaches Jon’s desk. Because it’s nearly clean, empty except for two items.</p>
<p>A pair of nearly identical canes.</p>
<p>The lengths of pale rattan sit there side by side, the slight hook at the top unnaturally similar. Or at least unnaturally similar given how old they seem, from long before anyone could’ve produced this sort of thing in a factory. As Martin studies them more closely, letting his hands rest on the edge of the desk, he notices it’s even more unusual than that. Because it’s not just the perfect shape, but all the nicks and grooves, the imperfections and the cracks. They’re all identical. Everything is, except for the one detail that he wants to shy away from, even knowing it’s the most important of all.</p>
<p>One of the canes is covered in blood.</p>
<p>Not fresh blood, something he’s unreasonably grateful for, given what he’s doing and where he works. It’s not that he’s seen or known anyone hurt that badly, but well, there’s a lot of dangerous stuff here, no matter how much Jon likes to deny it, each sneering dismissal less convincing than the last. A bloody cane could mean things he really doesn’t want to consider. And hopefully doesn’t have to, because while he’s certainly no forensic expert, the blood seems decades old, leftover from some long forgotten punishment.</p>
<p>Except—</p>
<p>Martin glances over his shoulder, skin prickling under unseen eyes. But the Archives remain silent, and he turns back to the canes. As he leans closer, he catches a whiff of iron, and the blood doesn’t seem to be as dry as he first thought. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, but he could swear it shines in the light, that it may even be slowly dripping from the cane. But it’s still too far away to be sure. </p>
<p>He lifts his hand, hovering over the edge of the bloody cane, caught between the certainty this is a bad idea, and the knowledge that if he doesn’t check, the question of what it truly is will eat at him. And that when he speaks to Jon on Monday, Jon will pass this case to Sasha or Tim as well, and send Martin off to do some filing, not even bothering to conceal his disdain as he pours recriminations into the tape recorder.</p>
<p>The sting of it is enough to force Martin’s hand, and he reaches across those last few inches, fingers nearly brushing the head when his hand is slapped aside.</p>
<p>He yelps, scrambling back to find Jon glaring at him, far more terrifyingly furious than Martin has ever seen him. For all his bluster, his griping and his grumbling, Jon has never seemed all that prone to rage. But now there’s something dark in his eyes. And it makes Martin step closer.</p>
<p>“What are you doing in my office?” Jon’s voice is surprisingly even, almost calm. It’s even more disconcerting than the anger, and even more compelling.</p>
<p>“I—I just wanted to check some things, I thought you might have left something that I could do? I know you haven’t been happy with my work, and I thought—”</p>
<p>“I’d prefer if you refrained from thinking, given the results I’ve seen so far.” Jon’s hand is closing around the unblemished cane, the sound of it scraping across the desk far too loud, cutting through the roaring of blood in Martin’s ears. “Do you know what this is?” He emphasizes the question with a light whack of the cane against Martin’s calf, barely enough to smart. But that doesn’t stop Martin from shivering. Doesn’t stop the shameful heat slowly pooling inside of him.</p>
<p>“It’s a cane? I mean, I assume it’s tied to a statement, or you wouldn’t have it, right? So some research tied to a statement?”</p>
<p>Another, harder hit, and this time Martin yelps, which only seems to anger Jon more, his lips curling into a sneer.</p>
<p>“Yes, it’s related to a statement. And while most statements are complete nonsense, a few do have some danger to them, don’t they, Martin. The sort of danger that might prompt an intelligent person not to touch a mysterious object on their manager’s desk?”</p>
<p>The disdain almost stings more than the cane, but something has clearly been crossed in Martin’s brain, because this pain is just as sweet. Enough to make him sway closer to Jon, even as Jon’s hand tightens around the cane in a way that can’t be called anything but threatening. But if Martin was put off by Jon’s manner, he wouldn’t be here, would he? So it’s only logical that when Jon’s glare deepens at Martin’s failure to respond, he lets Jon shove him down onto his desk. And the bloody cane clatters to the floor.</p>
<p>His eyes follow it for a moment, as it comes to a stop against the far wall. Even moreso than before, the blood seems to shine strangely, and the smell of iron is stronger than ever. But whatever it promises is knocked from Martin’s mind by the elbow digging cruelly into his back, as Jon presses him down with his full weight, and speaks into Martin’s ear.</p>
<p>“Clearly regular discipline isn’t going to work with you.” There’s a tap tap tap of Jon hitting the cane against the desk, each one making Martin shudder. He squirms under Jon’s hold, but doesn’t try to escape, even as some part of him still recognizes this is absolutely insane. That neither of them should be doing this. But it doesn’t matter, not with Jon’s tranquil fury, or the promise the tapping holds. “Perhaps a more traditional method will hold more weight.”</p>
<p>“Please,” Martin hears himself say, whining and pathetic and not caring at all, if it will make Jon give him what he deserves. What he needs. “Whatever you want, please do it. I don’t know how else to please you.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter if you please me.” He pulls back, but Martin remains, desperate for what he dreads and wants in equal measure. “Only that you obey me.”</p>
<p>The cane thwacks against Martin’s arse, and he cries out, and cries out again when another blow quickly follows. He braces for a third, but it doesn’t come, and though he knows it’ll anger Jon he can’t help but push himself up, craning his neck to try to see what Jon is doing.</p>
<p>He only gets the briefest glimpse of Jon rummaging through a drawer before balled up fabric is shoved into his mouth. An undershirt, probably. Likely belonging to Jon. To have something so intimate, something that had touched his skin between Martin’s lips...it goes straight to his cock. He flushes at this further embarrassment, this confirmation of how obsessed he truly is, but he hardly cares now. Not when the same cock is pressed to Jon’s desk, and behind him Jon readies another blow.</p>
<p>“Silence is too much of an expectation for you, so I thought I’d help you out.” He drags the cane along Martin’s back, and Martin whimpers, trying to push into the touch while still remaining pressed to the desk. The tap that follows barely hurts, but he still makes a noise. But quieter than before, muffled by the makeshift gag just as Jon desired.</p>
<p>His eyes flutter shut, but before he can relax into what certainly will follow, he feels a hand in his hair, dragging his head cruelly up to meet Jon’s glare. “I expect you to remain still. I hope you can manage that.”</p>
<p>Martin nods as best he can while constrained by Jon’s grip, and after giving him a slight shake, Jon seems satisfied by the response. Or maybe he’s just satisfied by the tears leaking from the corners of Martin’s eyes, grateful for the attention Martin has longed for these many months. Jon lets him go, and this time when he steps back, Martin gets exactly what he expects.</p>
<p>A hit of the cane, and another, and another. Even through his trousers, it hurts, and yet some part of Martin wishes Jon had undressed him. Flayed his skin bare and bloodied this still unblemished replica as a testament to Martin’s obedience. Some part of him recognizes that the thought is mad, that this whole situation is wrong. But he doesn’t care, not when each new blow sends another jolt to his cock. A pleasure he knows he can’t release, not unless Jon commands it.</p>
<p>And he does obey, even as his need increases, and Jon’s blows grow slower. More considering, as if he’s taking the time to consider the best angles, the spots that will make Martin weep. Not just his arse, but his lower back, his thighs. Laying line after bright line into his skin, marks he knows he’ll trace lovingly when he gets home, treasuring the memory of Jon on his skin.</p>
<p>Then he feels Jon hand on his waistband, and nearly cries with gratitude as Jon hauls him unsteadily to his feet, stepping back to regard him with such obvious contempt that Martin feels another wave of arousal crest over him, nearly enough to make him come just from that. But Jon wouldn’t want that, and Martin is determined to obey, to be everything Jon commands and everything he could possibly want, even if all he wants is Martin’s pain and obedience.</p>
<p>“Pull down your trousers and pants,” he says, tapping the cane against the floor as Martin scrambles to obey, leaving them in a tangle around his ankles with his erection on clear display for Jon.</p>
<p>“You’re seriously getting off from this?” Jon drags the tip of the cane along Martin’s cock, making Martin cry out, biting down on the sodden cloth filling his mouth as he struggles to remain standing.</p>
<p>Jon snorts, then nods at the desk. Martin can’t comply fast enough, nearly tripping as he bends over it again. Through the roaring in his ears, he can hear the sound of a zipper, the snap of a cap and the insistent tap of the cane. When he feels the tip of what has to be Jon’s cock brush against his hole, he nearly sobs, even as the fabric of Jon’s trousers rubs cruelly against his sensitive skin.</p>
<p>There’s no preparation before Jon pushes in, but Martin wouldn’t want it. He’s only here for what Jon wants, whatever Jon will give him. When he dares to try and move back, to force Jon deeper inside him, Jon smacks his calf with the cane he still holds in one hand. It’s a sharp enough pleasure Martin is almost tempted to try it again, but he’s terrified if he grows too bold, Jon will leave. That whatever has overtaken them will dissipate. So instead he simply bites down harder on the undershirt, letting it muffle his sobs as Jon thrusts into him erratically.</p>
<p>Jon comes more quickly than Martin expects, hips stuttering against his arse, before sighing in what sounds more relief than pleasure. He draws out slowly, leaving Martin dripping, still hard and raw and aching while he listens to Jon shuffle about, likely cleaning himself up. It’s followed by a silence only broken by the tapping of the cane, like the absent tapping of a pen as Jon considers what to do next, whether Martin is even worthy of more of his time.</p>
<p>But if there’s one thing Martin’s learned from this strange encounter, it’s that his unworthiness is all Jon needs.</p>
<p>He begins to grind against Jon’s desk, his now freed cock dragging against the wood, his moans of relief too loud for Jon to fail to hear even through the gag. Behind him, he can hear the thud of footsteps, and his only warning is a whoosh of air before the cane falls cruelly against his arse. It parts the bare and tender skin exactly as Martin hoped, slow welling of blood mingling with Jon’s come as it drips down his thigh. And then, only then, does he finally come, spurting onto Jon’s desk he cries into the gag, his face pressed against the sweat slick wood.</p>
<p>There’s another silence, long enough he thinks Jon has left. But even if he has, Martin knows he has to wait. Only Jon’s command can free him, and it’s all he wants. All he needs. And his patience is rewarded, as the end of the cane traces the cruel arc of the most vivid of the wounds, drinking in the blood he has given it.</p>
<p>“Clean it up,” Jon says. Calm and commanding, and though Martin doesn’t look as he drops to his knees, he can feel Jon’s eyes on him. Boring into him as he scrambles to obey, licking up his own come where it’s stained Jon’s desk. The taste isn’t what he wants, and the dust and ink it’s mingled with don’t help in the least. But it’s still the sweetest thing he’s swallowed in so long, flavored by the knowledge he is doing exactly what Jon wants.</p>
<p>Through it all, Jon keeps him on task with taps of the cane. Stinging, but never quite breaking the skin. More teasing than punishing. All a sign that Martin has done what he wanted. Perhaps not perfectly, but they can work on that. There’s hope Martin will do better. Hope that he might be something that will please Jon someday.</p>
<p>When he’s finished, he slowly turns, still on his knees when he finally looks up at Jon. The eyes staring back at him are wild, almost fevered. Like he doesn’t know quite what he’s done or why, but not because he doesn’t want it. Only because he wants it more than he can say. Jon takes a step back, and the cane tumbles from his hand, coming to rest in front of Martin.</p>
<p>Where it had once been clean, it too was now soaked with blood. But this blood has an origin Martin knows, a crime it punished that still prickles along Martin’s skin. Even as it sits there, it sings to him, and he almost wants to touch it. To see what Jon will do.</p>
<p>But he’s learned better now, so he remains still, mouth working around the gag, waiting for the words he yearns for Jon to say.</p>
<p>“Clean yourself up,” Jon says, taking another step back to stand in the door. For a moment, Martin thinks that will be it, as Jon swallows and seems to struggle against the weight of what he’s done, the gravity of what he wants to do. But he doesn’t leave it at that. Instead, he gives Martin a stern nod, and everything he was hoping for.</p>
<p>“Your performance is almost acceptable. But I expect further improvement.”</p>
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